


The Abridged Life and Times of Simon Glass

by LeenWritesHere



Category: SCP Foundation
Genre: Backstory, Escape, Gen, Guns, Light Angst, Listen this is pure self indulgence brought on by boredom and tiredness, More characters to be added, More than one chapter, Running Away, Tags will be updated, Title Subject to Change, well he gets shot in the first chapter but I’m tagging that just in case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27355477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeenWritesHere/pseuds/LeenWritesHere
Summary: A few of the key moments from the life of Dr. Simon Glass, pre and post-Foundation.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This’ll have more than one chapter, ao3’s just glitching out a bit for me.

The Chaos Insurgency is never truly home to Simon Glass.

Even as a child who views the entire world around him through rose-tinted glasses, he knows he doesn’t belong.

He always knew, but he also buries the feeling deep down inside of himself, for his family’s sake.

* * *

He is thirteen when he truly grasps the weight of the Insurgency’s goals. Enough ounces of desperate naivety remain inside of him, however, for him to speak to his mother and ask her if what they're doing is right.

She hugs him, tells him that their goal is one they should achieve no matter the cost, and tells him to shake off any feelings of doubt he has and think of the greater good. He nods, and tries not to hesitate when she gives him a kiss on his forehead and tells him to head back to bed.

He thanks her with a forced smile before returning to his room and making sure the door is locked before he buries his face in his pillow and cries himself to sleep.

* * *

He’s sixteen when he tries to run away.

He’s been preparing for it for the last few weeks now. His most prized possession, a backpack filled with the essentials, hangs loosely over his shoulder as he stalks through the halls of the site and attempts to escape without being seen.

He doesn’t succeed.

The bullet lodged in his lower back sends shockwaves of pain every time he moves, but the adrenaline distracts him from it as he runs away from the guards repeatedly shooting at him.

Bullets whizz past his head, and he doesn’t even notice that half of an ear is blown off until he feels the warm blood trickling down the side of his face.

Still, he keeps running. He’s in the forest that surrounds the site now. Simon has never really been the most athletic person, and he continuously trips over logs and roots as he runs through the mud and tries not to slip.

He keeps running because he doesn’t belong here, he doesn’t belong here, _this isn’t home_ -

The bullet shot into his shoulder is what makes him collapse.  
  
The adrenaline has worn off now. He’s on the ground, face and body caked with dirt and mud, and can barely breathe as he bleeds a puddle, the smell of the iron overwhelming his senses.

He hears the wet footsteps of an Insurgent in the mud approaching him, and closes his eyes when he feels the cold metal of a rifle barrel against the back of his head.

”See you in Hell, kid.”

He says nothing to this but whimpers in fear, wondering whether the blood loss or the rifle will kill him first.

He hears a click as the Insurgent presses the barrel closer to his head and prepares to shoot.

And then, a gunshot rings through the forest.

...

....

.....

Simon Glass opens his eyes when he hears the Insurgent’s body slump to the ground behind him.

He hears more footsteps from in front of him this time, and barely manages to find the strength to look up to see his savior.

There’s a man in tactical gear standing in front of him, holding his own rifle and looking down at Simon with a mix of pity and intrigue.

”You’ve defected.” the man comments under his breath. He kneels down to Simon’s level and places a two fingers against his neck to check his heart rate, the rough leather of his glove making Simon flinch slightly. 

”Ah, low heart rate. Makes sense,” the man mutters to himself, looking at the red puddle staining the ground. It takes a moment for Simon to realize the man is holding him when the man abruptly picks up Simon, placing one hand under his knees and the other under his back.

Simon lets out a low whine at the pain racking his body and curls in on himself slightly, to which the man apologizes, “Sorry, kid, but we can’t stay here. You’ll be taken care of soon, just hang in there for now.”

Simon bites down hard on his lower lip and slowly nods, pressing his head to the man’s chest as he feels his consciousness beginning to escape him. 

As he closes his eyes and loses consciousness, he notices a logo emblazoned on the man’s shirt: A white circle with three arrows pointing inside of it. 

It seems familiar, but he can’t place where he’s seen it before until the last moment before he finally passes out.

It’s the logo of the SCP Foundation.


	2. A New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon’s first night at the Foundation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short one today.

“He’s awake.”

Those are the first words Simon hears when he wakes up in a bed with tubes stuck into his body and an oxygen mask strapped over his face.

There are a few people dressed in scrubs standing at his bedside, and Simon feels so weak and lightheaded that he can barely hear what they’re saying. He thinks he can make out some miscellaneous words, like, “bullets,” and “alive,” and “surgery.”

His eyes trail over to the table at the far end of the room, covered in bloodied surgical tools and with a tray of little black capsules.

_Oh._

Well, that explains his back doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

Simon passes back out again while the doctors panic.

* * *

The thing about defecting to the Foundation is that it doesn’t make the Foundation automatically think of you as “one of the good guys.”

Simon realizes this as he sits handcuffed at a desk, with a woman at the other end of it interviewing him.

She’s asking him questions about the Insurgency, none of which he can answer, and as she attempts to mask her increasing frustration with his lack of answers, it truly dawns on Simon how much he was left in the dark about things.

Simon’s whole world until he ran away was that site. He was born there, lived there his whole life, and presumed he would die there too. Sure, he knew there was something out there beyond the site, and was aware of some basic geography, but he didn’t even know what country, let alone continent, the site was in. Was it that much of a risk for the Insurgency to tell him?

He didn’t know there were other sites, sites even bigger than the one he was in.

He didn’t even know that there were more groups who dealt with the anomalous than just the Foundation and the Insurgency. The GOC? The Serpent’s Hand? Those names were all new. 

The interview ends soon after the woman gets too frustrated with Simon’s complete ignorance to continue.

There’s not much gained from it, if at all.

* * *

He’s given some new clothes and his own room- a D-Class uniform and a holding cell.

Well, it’s not exactly a D-Class uniform, but it sure feels like one. It’s a stark white jumpsuit with the foundation’s logo printed on a sleeve while his name, Simon Glass, is printed on the back in big bold letters.

The bed is fine, he supposes. It’s not like he can ask for a king-sized bed with soft satin sheets and a pillow, but it’s good enough and doesn’t make his back hurt when he lies in it.

Simon spends a long time staring at the ceiling before he grabs the blankets and cocoons himself in them as he sniffles and holds back tears.

Whether he likes it or not, this is his new home now.

_And nothing will ever be the same again._

The boy lets his tears flow as he falls asleep.


End file.
